Through the Ages
by riannejace
Summary: In 19th century London, Earl Ciel Phantomhive was notoriously known and feared as the King of the Underworld, controlling every black deed in service to the Queen. However, circumstances start to prove otherwise when he meets Doll, a member of the travelling circus named "Noah's Ark".
1. ONE: into the streets of London

**hello guys! after a long time of not posting, here i am. this time, with a Kuroshitsuji Fanfic! to be honest, i wasn't content with the Noah's ark chaps, and yeah, i shipped Doll and Ciel, so here i created another universe. this will be more in depth, and might be told in Doll's POV**

**enjoy! Rate and Review as well.**

**_DISCLAIMER:_**** I DO NOT OWN KUROSHITSUJI. BUT I DO OWN THE TAILOR, MR. PHIPS, AND THE PLOT AND OTHER OCs,**

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The circus was bustling before the sun kissed the sky.

Doll was among the throngs of early morning risers, running about, preparing food for the first tier members who had their early morning show. Unlike her companions, who grumbled as they slouched, peering at the potatoes and onions and garlic that they were peeling and cursing at their lack of sleep and the chilly air, she liked the cold wind that blew in the brink of dawn, loved how the sky slowly changed its colors, from black, to blue, to violet, to pink, to orange, and the thrill of another busy day.

She smiled to herself at this, as she worked intently on her potato. There were piles of peels by her feet, a sack only a quarter full, and a basket full of potatoes she shared with her neighboring peer, who by all chance was glaring into his work.

"Why are you so chirpy in the mornin'?" he growled out as he chucked the potato into the basket and picking up another, "I don' think tha' be possible fer gals like you to be up an' about."

Doll let out a giggle as she wiped her hands on her trousers, setting the knife on the table behind her, she stood up and stretched. "It be a beautiful morn, mate," she chirped out, "and I do think that the sun will shine here in London."

He let out a disapproving sound through his teeth, "ever since we be set our feet here in this place, the clouds near ne'er left the sky an' just pissed at us here on the groun'! I doubt the sun will make its needed appearance."

She tiptoed towards him with light feet, twirling with nimble legs and a lithe body, laughing while she did so. Her voice echoed within the kitchen tent, reaching the ears of her companions, and in a way, they too, couldn't help but laugh along with her. Doll had that kind of effect on people. She grew on them like some kind of moss, and people learned to love her in little time. Even her bitter companion, who no less than a second ago was scowling, chuckled along.

"I say that be a lie," she hummed out as she did a sweeping bow, "I do believe the sun will rise in London!"

The others clapped, a little too extravagantly, but she didn't mind. She swept her hair off the left side of her face and gave them all a wide grin and a salute.

"Well then, mates!" she chirped out, "it seems I've bested the lot of you again!"

The head of the kitchen tent gave out a low whistle, chuckling, "when I retire, me thinks the boss won't have a hard time lookin' for a replacement!"

Doll stuck out her tongue, "got some errands for me then?"

He strode towards her with big steps, grabbing a basket along the way. Doll readily spread her arms open to clutch the basket to her chest as he handed it to her.

"Go an' git to the tailor, girl," he said as he placed a heavy hand atop her head, "yer brother instructed 'im to sew an outfit fer ya since ya tore the hem of the other one. And he says ya be mighty fine now."

A sudden spasm of excitement went through her body, and without letting the Kitchen Head finish his sentence, Doll ran off from the tent, feet getting splattered by mud, letting the early morning dew rest upon her cheeks as she tried to go faster than her deft legs could carry her. She passed by some of the other circus members, some from the first tier, running a few laps to stretch their muscles, feeding the animals with deft care and newly caught game. She greeted them all with cheery "Good Morning!"s and ecstatic waves.

Arriving by the wooden archway that served as the entrance to the circus, she stopped for a moment, pulling out a scrap of cloth from her pocket to wipe away the budding forms of sweat on her pale brow and the mud on her porcelain legs. She looked behind her and grinned in awe at the huge tent that dominated the centre of their rented land, a behemoth cloth house splotched with lines of red and yellow, the colors that dominated the circus, and mused at how many people it can hold. She had been a part of the circus ever since she was but a child, but still, the thought of its massiveness still took the breath from her.

Doll loved the circus, loved it with every inch and fiber of her being. She loved the circus more than mornings and candies and loved the members just as much. She loved every nook and cranny and dust mote; in fact, she loved about almost everything she had ever set her eyes upon.

Such was her innocence, never stained, never broken.

Breaking from her reverie, Doll immediately remembered the promised outfit waiting for her at the tailor shop, and quickly immersed herself into the early London crowd. Almost immediately the streets were full with men in their top hats and canes, women with their Sunday frocks and parasols, children being carried by nannies and dogs being walked. Carriages passed by here and there, making rumbling noises and the clip clop of hooves on cobblestones echo. The horses interested Doll the most, since the circus always had its own rickety train and had a select few breeds exclusive for one of her sister's shows locked off from the others. To them, the horses were of value, since they were good and strong.

Making a turn on the corner and into Main Street, Doll found herself amongst a crowd of people from all walks of life. Shops littered here and there, and the frequent clinging of bells reached her ears as she kept her head low. The Main Street was always an intimidating place for her, since she had near little amount of socialization for her to know the deprecating glares given to her by noblemen and women alike.

So as she navigated her way along the pavement, she tried to avoid brushing past the elegantly clothed people she believed were like gods and goddesses brought down from heaven, and she just a spot of mud on the ground, taking great care to not look into their spiteful eyes.

The walk was short though, as she spotted the showcase of dresses behind a glass wall. Immediately, Doll stepped towards the shop and pushed open the door, checking to see if she looked decent enough to pass as a boy. Puffing out her cheeks and brushing away the strands of hair that pestered the left side of her face, she looked up to see the tailor entertaining a nobleman and what seemed to be his butler.

Doll immediately regretted ever entering the shop.

She quickly and nimbly went to a corner, hiding herself before the nobleman could look behind him to see who had entered. Taking care not to let the soft fabric of the dresses to her side brush her skin, she waited patiently, hugging the basket to her chest as if it was a shield.

"My Lord," she overheard the tailor say, in his old quivering voice, "The outfit you have asked for shall be delivered immediately upon your doorstep tomorrow in the evening. I shall see to it that I will be the one to personally hand it over."

"Thank you, kind sir," a different voice answered. Doll marveled at the sound of the voice, for it was soft, and somewhat pleasing to her ears. She glanced at the nobleman standing in front of the counter, hand holding tightly unto an ornate cane, thumb glinting with a signet ring. She felt a sudden admiration for the lad and his somewhat gentle demeanor.

"Well," he continued, "might the kind lady on the corner come and bid her business?"

Doll held her breath as he turned to her, and she was soon captivated by a blue eye staring into hers as if it could see her soul. She saw that his left eye was covered by a black patch, and suddenly, her heart went out to him. In that instant that their eyes met, a smile curved the lad's pinkish lips.

She quickly woke herself from her daydreaming and made a fleeting, and a tad bit clumsy, little bow. "My Lord," she murmured, eye sweeping to the ground as she felt her cheeks flush, "pray tell let this peasant wait for you to finish with your biddings."

She could hear his footsteps, clicking on the marble floor along with the slight thump of his ornate cane. She deduced that his shoes were made with at least an inch of leverage, and that they were custom made, fit for an Earl.

"Sweet girl look up," he murmured, and her heart almost jumped out of her chest, "I am no king, merely human, such as you, we are equal."

She did look up, and yet again, she was drowning in that one sea of deep, crystal-like blue. His words were like music and velvet, softly ringing in her ears

"Thank you, my Lord," the words came out of her lips in broken breaths, "I shall set on, then."

Again, the lad smiled at her, holding up a hand, he motioned to his butler.

"Sebastian come," he murmured, authority slightly tingeing his tone, "I wish for you to assist the Lady with all that you can."

The butler tilted his head down, placing a hand upon his chest, "yes, My Lord."

Doll made quick to protest, "oh by heavens, my Lord! There is no need for such a thing!"

But the Lord only placed a hand upon her bony shoulder, gentle and light, "please," he said, a soft, yet slightly persuading tone in his voice, "it is my pleasure."

She blinked, and then looked down at her feet once more, "many thanks," was all she could say.

The Lord nodded, smile not even wavering, and he left, circling the room, stopping a few feet away, and began to inspect the fabrics in a rack as the butler made way towards her. Doll felt a chill run up her spine when she saw his midnight black hair and midnight black suit. She had never developed a taste for midnight black things.

"My Lady," the butler said, bowing, "shall we make way and see what you need?"

She pursed her lips at this in a slight way, "I only needed to pick up what my brother had made for me," she explained, "no need to fuss on me."

At this, the butler smiled, but it was haughty, as if he was laughing inside, "ah, but my master asked me to assist you, and assist, I shall!"

He held out a hand, smiling still, and Doll had no choice but to accept it. They made way to the counter where the tailor was waiting with wide eyes and slack jaw.

"Hello, kind sir," she said cheerily, "my brother had asked for you to sew a costume for me. I belong to Noah's ark, the visiting circus."

The Tailor blinked, and then nodded, "ah! As I recall yes, your brother came in a few days ago to put in the order! Why of course, I shall bring it to you now, dear. Not to worry about the pay, your brother had already given the money right after he requested for it."

She only nodded as he made way into the back room, leaving her with the Lord and the butler.

"A circus?" the Lord's voice piqued up, "I believe I've never been to see it."

She turned to him, placing the basket upon the counter as she shoved her hands in her pockets, "you should, My Lord, after all, they say we are the best that's ever been."

"My, my," the butler in turn said, "Young Master, does it not catch your interest?"

He nodded, walking towards them, "it does so, it does so. When is your show?"

She lifted her chin up in pride, "we have one my Lord, in an hour."

"Will you perform then, sweet Lady?" he asked, eye like that of a clear summer ocean glinting under the sun. hand yet again upon her bony shoulder.

She blinked, bit her lip, felt her breath hitch and cheeks flush a deeper pink.

"Yes, m-my Lord," she answered breathily, stuttering unintentionally. She faced the counter yet again and hid her face behind her hands, "please do not peer closely upon this horrid face of mine. And please, I do not wish to soil your extravagant wear with this dirty frock I wear."

The Lord blinked in surprise, "I find not one speck of your being horrid," he said, "and daresay you are not dirty, my Lady,"

She was left speechless.

The door to the back opened, and Doll quickly recovered herself. The old tailor lumbered in with a huge basket, a spot of white within that made Doll remember her excitement.

He set the basket upon the counter, and the butler made way to gently pick the dress up to inspect it. Doll was surprised at this action, and the way the Lord showered her with kindness. It is a kindness she had not seen and experienced with many noblemen.

"Well, the cloth is smooth, I presume it is silk? The embroidery is excellent, as usual," the butler remarked, "and I quite say, the satin roses on the hem are a wonderful touch. The puff of the skirt is perfect, the petticoat safely tucked away, and the lace is a work of a true master. Amazing as usual, Mr. Phips."

The Tailor made to smile at these compliments, and nodded slightly, "the brother of this lass here wanted what's best for her, and so I gave the best.

"Thank you," Doll said. The butler quickly folded her garment neatly and placed them inside a cloth bag he had produced from one of the baskets on the counter. He gathered the next piece with deft, careful hands.

It was a headdress, like a bouquet of roses sewn into silk and satin, complete with a white embroidered ribbon to keep it in place. At the right side where the roses seem overgrown, there lie two feathers and a string of shining silver beads.

The butler turned to her, "do you wish to test to see if it fits you, my Lady?"

She nodded and took it from him, avoiding to touch his gloved fingers. She turned to one side, walking to the corner where her face would not be seen. Sweeping away her hair from her face in entirety, she felt her fingers run on the jagged skin on the right side of her face.

Quickly, drowning out her disgust and sorrow, she placed the piece upon her head and fixed it into place, tying the two pieces of ribbon into a decorative knot. She smiled at the familiar feel and comfortable fit. She took it off and rearranged her hair.

"It fits nicely," she said as she walked towards them. The butler took the headdress from her hands gently and placed it into the bag, along with the stockings and garters, and in no time, she was ready to set off.

"Dear Lady," the Lord said as he took her small hand in his, "what is your name?"

She swallowed lightly, taken aback by the eagerness in his voice and sincerity in his eye. She took a deep breath.

"They call me Doll, my Lord," she answered, giving him a smile that favored a million shining suns.

"Doll," he repeated, and the letters were like the sweets she indulged in whenever she had the chance to, and it made her feel as if she was at the top of the world. "Doll," he said, yet again, "a name that befits you."

She blushed, "what about you my Lord? Might I know your name?"

He smiled, "my name, you say? I fear that if you were to know it, you would shy away from me." He let go of her hands, "But dear Lady, I do hope that I can reach your show and see you again."

And with that, he left her to wonder.

When the door had closed and he vanished from sight, she turned to the tailor.

"His name is Earl Ciel Phantomhive," he said, answering her silent question, "the king of the underworld of London. The evil Earl. The Queen's watchdog."

She would have asked for any other name. She would have accepted any other name except _that name_.


	2. TWO: the darkest shadows hide

**you know the drill. R&R 3 :)**

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Earl Ciel Phantomhive gazed at the surroundings smudging past him in a haze of greens and blues and browns. The carriage rattled upon the uneven cobblestones that paved the road to his home, but all he could think about was the way the girl's eye, that one single eye visible to him, sparkling like the lightest color of the sky.

"It was unexpected, my Lord, for you to set sights on such a girl," his butler said, breaking the silence with a tone of amusement. He rolled his eye in annoyance at his action and glared at the black clad man seated in front of him.

"Tch," he spat out, gripping the handle of his cane with a white-knuckled anger he knew only amused the man, "shut up, Sebastian."

The butler raised a brow, "my my, Lord Phantomhive, where are your manners?"

He intensified his glare, "make the carriage turn around _right now_ Sebastian, I _order _it."

With a curt nod of the head, the butler knocked upon the carriage roof, and slowly, the carriage halted. Swinging open the door, he jumped out to leave the Lord to his thoughts.

Letting out an exasperated sigh as he rested his head onto the cushions behind him, Ciel placed a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples as he toned down the anger brought upon by his servant's haughty attitude he still found insulting. Counting from one to ten, he thought about the things he had to do today.

But still, the girl and everything about her tickled his heartstrings in the warmest of ways, and Ciel's thoughts could not stray from her. He reminisced every breath she took, every blink she made, and how her voice wafted into his ears like the most beautiful melody the world could produce. He smiled a bitter smile and shook his head.

The butler returned in no more than five minutes with his eyes cast upon the ground. "What you ask has been done," he murmured, "my Lord."

He gazed at his servant with an icy glare, one that he returned with equal measure.

"Lady Elizabeth will not be pleased, Young Master," Sebastian said, a smirk curving his cat-like lips, "hadn't you promised to take her to the factories and educate her of the Funtom Company?"

Ciel felt his heart skip a beat, remembering his Fiancé, he immediately regretted his decision. But he did not order for the carriage to stop and return to the manor, instead, he ignored his butler's statement and pushed on with his plan.

The butler clucked his tongue to show his disappointment, all the more making the Lord boil in anger, "breaking hearts and promises now? I see that a tad bit too early for you, Young Master."

"Watch your tongue," he snapped out, "a butler has no right to say such things to a man he serves."

"Man or boy?" the black-clad man countered, "where are your priorities, Young Master? Did you not read the letter sent by the Queen?"

Ciel was at his brink, but he tried to retain his calm, not giving the butler the privilege of seeing him being heavily affected with the petty words he had fired at him. instead, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the torn envelope with the broken seal of the Queen. Bringing out the paper within, he unfolded it and showed it to the butler.

"The Queen worries about the missing children," he stated calmly, in a cool, calculating voice, "whose disappearances coincided with the circus's departures from the places it had visited. The certain circus named 'Noah's Ark."

He leaned forwards, resting his arms on his knees and his chin on his hands, eyeing the butler down with the silence and his anger to fuel the tension.

"That girl said she was a performer at the circus," he said, "and when she seemed enraptured with me I dove in for a sure win. We can _use _her Sebastian, we can get the information that we need from her when she falls deeper into the trap, and then we can ease the Queen."

The butler let out a laugh, "not a speck of honor," he remarked, "where has it gone, Young Master?"

The cabin of the carriage seemed to grow darker, but the sun was still up and about, denying London of the rain it had been accustomed to.

"I have no honor," Ciel whispered, hand traveling to the patch that covered his eye, "honor never had a place for me with this evil name of mine."

He pulled away the patch, revealing an archaic, demonic seal embedded into his pupil. Instead of blue, it glowed and pulsed with hues of purple and red.

Once, Ciel was proud of this, of the curse that had been placed upon his family and house. He wore it like a badge of honor that drove him to attain his bittersweet revenge. He used his anger and mind to create games with men and men with games, and he basked upon the blood of fallen enemies. He embraced the darkness as if it were a long lost love.

And yet at that moment, sitting inside that darkened cabin with his devil butler and the words of the Queen he found fuel to drive him, Ciel felt an emptiness he could not comprehend. He felt a loneliness he had shunned away when he gave up his soul to eternal damnation.

"Sebastian, this is an order. Learn what you can of this circus girl's identity. Her story, her real name, her history." He uttered, eyes travelling to his gloved hands, where the ring with its majestic blue diamond glimmered like a manacle.

The butler smirked, revealing sharp, elongated teeth, and eyes blood red, pupils slit, snake-like.

"Yes, My Lord."

The darkness leached away from the cabin as Ciel sat alone. Smirking to himself at how direct to the point his butler was, he gazed yet again outside the rattling window as the huge wooden archway emblazoned with the words "Noah's Ark Circus" came into view.

He felt his heart race at the thought of the maiden in her white costume somewhere inside the labyrinthine land of tents, probably painting her face with rogue and gloss, the roses atop her head in full bloom, complimenting the rare sunny day London decided to give.

"Doll," he murmured, and the word was like sugar to his tongue. The fast beating of his heart slowed down to show his worry over the girl and what might happen.

He didn't like the way she was familiar to him. He didn't like the way how one single girl made him rethink his entire life within milliseconds. He didn't like the way he felt dirty under her gaze.

The darkness he encased in his heart did not ease him. Instead, it made him loathe himself.

An emotion he was overly-familiar with.


	3. THREE: over the edge

Doll paced back and forth inside the backstage area of the main tent, heart in her throat as the crowd roared with applause. She peered from the tiny gap to see Sister Beast do tricks with Betty the tiger, and Brother Joker at the edge of the ring, watching with a wide smile on his face.

She tried to absorb the jolly atmosphere, tried to frown away the heavy feeling in her heart. She didn't like this feeling, not when it was almost her turn. She believed that in very performance, her mind should be clear.

But Earl Ciel Phantomhive meddled with her thoughts, sending her into myriads of confusion and feelings she has never encountered before.

She sucked in a deep breath, closing her eye heavily lidded with makeup and false eyelashes, and his face flashed itself before her eyes. Smiling slightly to herself, she tried to remember how soft his hands were, how gentle his voice was, how deep the color of his eye was. She reminisced every detail and used it to her advantage, shielding away the truth of his identity with the kindness he had shown to her.

With a bow, Sister Beast finished her show and ushered Betty the tiger to the cage. Seeing this as the signal, Doll immediately went towards her entrance point and readied her white parasol, setting it upon her shoulder as she removed any sign of emotion on her face.

A drum roll started to echo, and Brother Joker's booming voice drowned away the beat.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, the show you've all been waiting for! I present to you, the princess of the circus with her death defying net-less tightrope walk!"

Doll stepped outside, and she was a new person altogether. With steel determination and cold looks, she made way towards the stairs that led to the huge metal pole that kept the tightrope in place.

Silence emanated from within the tent.

Taking in one final deep breath, Doll ran her eyes over the crowd in hopes to see his face.

He was not there.

Disappointment started to fill her, but she didn't let that emotion run into her head. As flexible as she could, hands outstretched, she placed her foot upon the rope, testing it out, shifting her weight to the other leg, and she looked up at the hole in the tent and summoned all her strength.

Slowly, she made progress, inching while the crowd watched her with held breaths. The silence was unbroken as even Brother Joker had tensed.

But Doll moved on forward with head held high and before long, the crowds were cheering. As she reached the center of the tightrope, she yet again swept her eyes over the crowd, looking for that familiar one-eyed lord with his raven hair and gentle smile.

There he stood by the entrance, cloaked in shadow as if he were hiding himself. His top hat was tilted in a way that hid the look on his face, but Doll knew it was a measure to keep his safety and be unrecognized, even if he were wearing such extravagant clothing, since he was hated for what he was.

Doll felt a heaviness in her heart at this, but she continued walking forward, unbowed, unbent, unbroken, straight ahead where the sun does not meet the end of the rope. She could make out the slightest of smiles that curved his lips.

And before she knew it, the walk had ended, and the crowds were screaming in awe along with the massive echoes of their applause that rang in her ears.

Going down the stairs and into the middle of the ring, she gave a sweeping bow to the crowd that showered her with roses and coins. Looking up at her spectators, she graced them a smile before turning to the Lord hiding behind the darkest shadows.

"Doll," he said, his voice almost unheard from the throngs of chanting people as Brother Joker introduced the next act, "it is nice that I made it in time."

She bowed her head, "My Lord, forgive the lack of seats in this tent, have you been standing here long?"

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head so that their eyes would meet, "dear Lady," he murmured, "I did not mind standing when you were up there with all your beautiful glory."

Under the layers of rogue, she blushed even a deeper shade, and at that, the Lord gave a laugh. His hand dropped to his side.

"Are you tired, My Lord?" she asked, "Do you wish to step outside and breathe fresh air?"

He took her hand into his and even though both were wearing gloves she could feel the heat of his palm, "only that is if you accompany me."

She blinked, "I am dressed in these clothes, and yet, you wish for me to walk beside you, my Lord? I might shame you, and I do not wish for that to happen."

He tightened his hold upon her hand and glared at the tent flap with its single ray of light. At that moment, she could see the anger in his eye, as if the world, no, God had forsaken him and left him to rot in the streets. Her heart yet again went out to him.

"Let them mock me," he whispered, ice in his voice, "for if they mock me, they jest themselves. If they mock you, then they shall burn for their crimes even if I have to go through hell and back _again_."

The word _again_ echoed within her ears as the crowds went berserk with cheers for what seemed like the fiftieth time in the hour since the show started. Taking this as an opportunity of diversion, the Lord Earl Ciel pulled her along with him to the deserted outside.

She raised a delicate brow, "where have the people gone?"

"Somewhere," the Lord answered with a mischievous smile, "I have some tricks up my sleeve. I asked for them to be kind and let us have some time alone."

Doll could not help but smile along with him.

"Now," he said, "will you please take a walk with me, sweet Lady?"

She blinked and looked down at her body, at the clothes she wore. He seemed to sense her turmoil and placed a hand upon her cheek.

"You look beautiful, sweet Lady, no need to fret at the gown you wear," he said to her reassuringly, "I do not mind."

She looked down at her feet, "well, my Lord, I-"

But before Doll could finish her sentence, a piercing scream broke free from the tent and emanated throughout the grounds of the circus. Whipping his head to the source, the Earl immediately sprang into action, running back inside with her following after him.

She scanned the turmoil, seeing Brother Joker amidst the crowd trying to soothe a weeping woman who was kneeling on the ground. Doll weaved through the mass of bodies along with the Lord, whose hand was still wrapped tightly around hers.

"What happened here?" he demanded in a high clear voice that silenced the growing whispers. Gasps then ensued.

The Lord Earl seemed to change in the course of mere seconds, from the kind, gentle boy to a cold, calculating man. Slipping his fingers away from hers he strode with a purpose towards Brother Joker and the woman. The silence was soon filled with murmurs she could decipher out.

_"__It's him, the devil's son."_

_"__The Evil Earl! What has brought him here? Another crime to do?"_

_"__Whenever he comes, misfortune follows!"_

The Earl whipped his head to the crowd, his visible eye icy and harsh, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel his anger sending off in invisible rivulets that seemed to wrap itself around her.

"Speak on!" he shouted, "I dare all of you to speak on! Let us see how far your petty tongues can take you."

Silence resumed, and the Lord cast away his cane on the ground, sinking to his knees in front of the woman. Placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder, he hushed her until she calmed.

"Lord Earl!" she choked out as soon as she saw her face, "my son! My son!"

Doll's eyebrows furrowed at this, she went towards Brother Joker who had a distraught look upon her face.

"What has happened?" she inquired, of which in turn her brother answered with a grave tone in his voice.

"Her son wandered off, and he cannot be found."

Her eye widened at this, "have you searched everywhere?"

"All the other members from the first and second tier are running up and about, searching every nook and cranny, but the child can't be found." He said, eyes unfocused as he placed a hand under her chin, "And you, Sister, where have you run off to?"

She looked away from his eyes and kept quiet, her gaze going to the Lord who muttered assurances to the lady in his slow, easy voice. He looked up at her and his lips curved slightly.

The smile was something else.

It sent shivers down her spine.

It was as if he was laughing on an inside joke, or found something of benefit.

It was the kind of smile every haughty victor wears when they know they've found a checkmate.


	4. FOUR: there is no

Doll blinked, and the smile from his lips vanished as soon as it came, leaving her to doubt what her eyes had seen. She moved away from Brother Joker and made way towards them, going onto her knees next to the Earl to take the weeping Lady into her arms.

"Lord Earl, please," she murmured as she felt the lady's tears stain her skin, "arise from the dirt, and let us members handle the turmoil."

He gave her a curt nod, standing as he pushed away the coat from his feet, picking up his cane along with him. Not bothering to turn around he sucked in a breath.

"Sebastian!" he called out, voice echoing in the silent tent, tilting his head sideways. Doll looked behind him and gasped in surprise to see the butler kneeling a few inches behind her, back turned towards her, facing the Earl.

"Yes, My Lord," the words the butler uttered were exact, no question or ask of order. Swiftly standing up, the man glanced back at her with a cat's grin gracing his lips. Slowly, he walked towards them, and with every step, Doll felt her heart leap as if it were trying to escape out of her chest.

"We meet again," he murmured, and in those eyes she saw amusement, as if he knew every dirty little secret she had, as if he knew everything about her, and that made her all the more uncomfortable, "I see the costume suits you well."

She did not answer him, God forbid she let him see how scared she was of him, of his midnight black hair and midnight black suit and midnight black words. She knew that this man was not to be trusted, not to be an accomplice, for he was sure to stab you in the back when it comes to the end. She didn't like how his eyes showed how much he seemed to know about her to the point that she felt as if she were naked.

The butler clicked his tongue at this small gesture, then bowed his head slightly, walking off. Brother Joker seemed to notice the queer exchange, and glared at the man.

But the smile did not slide off his face.

Shrugging away the goose pimples dotting her skin, Doll helped the woman stand to her feet. Brother Joker took the woman from her and patted her back.

"Leave it to me, Sister," he murmured as he slowly helped the woman, escorting her to the back of the tent. Slowly, the crowd dispersed, whispering still with voices unheard as the Earl stood there rigid and cold, like a statue. Doll slowly rose from her position and avoided to look into that single blue eye, frozen as if it were some kind of icy fortress deep into the unknown.

She didn't know what to speak of, how to break the silence echoing within the deserted tent. She stared deeper into that single orb and through the ice all she could make out was a soul screaming: _set me free_.

Set him free? How?

She barely even knew the gentleman to even call him by his name without his title, she knew nothing of his life and how he had come upon her with such kindness. She barely even knew the story behind the patch and his anger she knew he kept deep inside.

But when she opened her mouth to utter a word, he gave her a smile that seemed to break her apart.

"Lady," he murmured, taking a few steps closer towards her, "Forgive my butler for his insolence, and the way I have acted today. It seems that this face is too loathed by many people that even they can't seem to stop shouting accusations into my face. I am deeply sorry."

She shook her head, "dear Sir, I find you not one speck abhorrent like they do. I don't believe the names that they call you."

Yet deep inside she thought to herself, _do I?_

He was the Evil Earl, the demon's child, the Queen's dog, and because of him, because of this Earl, _because of this boy_-

"Ah."

The Earl seemed taken aback by this, as if torn between thinking whether it be truth or lie she spoke. Doll could not help but feel as if she were lying through grit teeth, and God was frowning upon her with every poisonous syllable that escaped her lips.

And then he smiled, this time, a small, sad smile, "nobody has ever said that to me with such sincerity in their eye."

_Sincerity? No. No Earl Ciel Phantomhive, sincerity is not what I'm trying to convey_.

Taking her hand into his, he pulled it near his lips and brushed a light kiss, leaving her skin tingling with tiny electric shocks. The Earl withdrew after a moment, then bowed his head slightly, leaving her to question his action.

He turned away, started to walk from her.

She did not call him back.

And with every step he took, she grew to loath herself even more.

"Sister Doll," her Brother Joker's voice reached her ears, and turning away from the retreating figure of the Earl, she looked up at the man with his red hair and painted skin. His eyes were different from the ones she was used to seeing.

She averted her gaze.

"You've set the trap," he whispered, "now the gears are in motion. Tell me, Sister, are you happy at what you've done?"

She did not answer.

"Father will be pleased," Brother Joker continued, "slowly, Father will get his wish, and he can be happier now."

She clenched her gloved hands into fists.

"Because after all, Father is the reason that we live and breathe."

She wanted to argue back.

"So, Sister, be the perfect doll for father and me."

But all her words were left unheard.

Earl Ciel Phantomhive sat inside his carriage as droplets from the sky stained the glass windows. His grip on his can tightened to the point that he started to feel splinters dig into his palms through the material of his gloves.

He didn't want that to happen, the woman losing her child that is. He didn't want to know that that circus was taking children right under their noses, and it bothered him that he couldn't help her. He knew what it felt like to lose someone who was very important, and much less never _see _them again…it made him furious and sorrowful at the same time.

His mind travelled to the girl, and all the anger seemed to ebb away, just like that.

Just like that.

He smiled to himself, a small bitter smile as he let the cane fall unto the carriage floor. Slowly, he pulled away the gloves on his hands and picked at the splinter that buried itself under his skin. He counted the seconds as he waited, albeit impatiently.

"What seems to trouble you, Young Master?"

Ciel looked up at Sebastian and smirked at him, clenching his bleeding palm into a tight fist as he flicked away the splinter onto the ground. Leaning back onto his seat, he crossed his arms around his chest.

"What did you find, Sebastian?" he asked, tapping his foot against the floor.

The butler bowed his head slightly.

"As it seems, when I checked the circus as you ordered, there were no sign of the children, even the little child who got _lost_ today," he answered, "but I do find it queer that all the first tier members, excluding your girl—"

"Shut up," he snapped.

The butler smirked at this, and then continued, "- have no records whatsoever. No names, parents, birthdates, addresses. Nothing, Young Master."

Ciel swallowed slightly, "what about her?"

"Are you sure you wish to know, my Lord?"

The question caught Ciel off guard, and he immediately regretted letting his curiosity run over him. letting out a sigh as he massaged his temples, he gave the butler a discreet shake of the head.

"I have no time for peasants like her," he said, and yet, it felt like poison was running down his throat, "I want every information about the circus upon my desk the minute we return to the town manor, and add some tea and sweets as well. Macarons, éclairs, and a platter of Madeleine with chocolate syrup could go well. As for the tea, I prefer to have a pot of Earl Gray. "

The butler's eyes widened at this request, "you seem to be asking for a lot, Young Master!"

"I plan to work all evening, have no one bother me as well, be it Elizabeth or the servants or Prince Somha and his _khansama_," Ciel said, "I will not entertain them for dinner, send them my apologies."

Quietness suddenly replaced the talk between the two, seeing that his master was not in the mood for further discussion, the butler knocked upon the carriage wall behind the Lord to alert the driver to begin their travel. Seeing this as the everyday sign of the butler's duty, the Earl looked upon the glass window now dotted with thousands of beads of rain.

The dark skies drowned out the sunlight, and with that, his heart slowly went out to the girl within the tent dressed in her snow-white dress and wig of white roses in full bloom.

"Your name day is near Young Master," the butler murmured as he picked up the cane on the floor, "what plans do you have?"

The Earl shook his head, "I'd rather not have any celebrations, since I'll die in the end anyway. Numbers do not matter anymore."

"But, Young Master, it is your seventeenth year."

He did not answer, signifying that he was not in the mood, and the butler shut his mouth. Grateful for the silence, the Earl continued to muse at the blurring shades of green and grey outside the carriage window.

He had been walking upon this earth for sixteen years, and he had expected not to go past that age. Another year added had surprised him, no doubt, but for those six years going on seven that he had relentlessly hunted down the people who tainted his name, he deemed it a very rigorous, yet satisfying life.

Until that is…

Shaking that thought away, Ciel closed his eyes, feeling that familiar sting on his back, the scar that branded him for life.

And the memories came to him, like a shot to the heart.

He remembered that it was raining that day, much like this one, but the difference was, it was the eve of his tenth birthday, and the rain washed away the snow on the ground.

His father was there, sitting beside him on his bed, caressing his head gently as his mother stood by the window, watching them with a smile on her gentle, gentle face. He remembered that father was telling him some sort of story, and he remembered feeling very, very happy. They bade him goodnight and blew out the candle as he slept peacefully like any other night.

But then, the heat and smoke woke him, he remembered the pain as the smoke entered his lungs, and before he knew it, he was staring at his parent's corpses.

He couldn't remember much after that, but he did know that it was very _very _scary. So terrifying that it still haunted him in his dreams, sending him screaming into the night and being woken up by the demon butler he sold his soul too.

And then the fear became a raging anger, and the anger a fuel for revenge.

_There is no God_, he thought to himself, _for when I needed salvation He did not come_.

And then his thoughts turned to her.

_Until she came and made me think that I can stand in this world, but not alone._

* * *

**in the manga, Ciel was originally 13 years old, but seeing as this is a _fanfiction_, i accelerated his age to sixteen so that it can compliment with the plot i have in mind. most of the story will either be told in Ciel or Doll's POV, and i might add a POV of Sebastian later on. **

**hope you enjoyed this update! leave a rate or a comment if it's not too much ^_^**


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